


How to Score

by mother_finch



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/F, Gen, mother-finch fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-07
Updated: 2015-07-07
Packaged: 2018-04-08 05:11:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4291989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mother_finch/pseuds/mother_finch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>PROMPT: rootxshaw prompt-Root and Shaw are together and live together. Thomas is back in town for a job and shows up on their door step to see Shaw again. He is, of course, charming as ever and doesn't stop hitting on Shaw while asking if she'd like to join him for his new score. Root is snide the whole time he's there, growing increasingly more jealous and Shaw doesn't notice. She just humors Thomas and then agrees to do the job with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How to Score

“How long do we have?” Shaw asks, tying her hair up in a tight ponytail as she rounds the corner to the living room. Root, laying across the couch, picks up her phone to check the time.

“About five minutes,” she replies, and Shaw nods. Coming over to the couch, she picks Root’s legs up by the heels, slides herself onto the cushion, then lets Root’s legs drape back down. A smirk comes to Root’s lips and her eyes send a thrill along Shaw’s spine.

“What?” Shaw asks, voice verging defensive hostility, but Root merely shakes her head.

“Nothing,” Root responds secretively, and Shaw rolls her eyes. Looking down, she sets to tracing out lazy patterns along Root’s jeans with one finger. Back and forth from knee to ankle in an array of aimless patterns, all the while she listens to Root’s even breathing at her side.

“How long have we been waiting for the pizza?” Shaw asks at last, the question pressing and pressing against her lips until she could hold it no longer. Looking over at Root, Shaw sees a small smile appear on her lips, all the while her eyes remain closed.

“Ten minutes,” she answers simply. Shaw stifles a groan.

* * *

 

“It feels like ten  _hours_.” Root opens her eyes, and they greet Shaw with nothing shy of amusement. Leaving her feet where they are, Root pulls herself to a sitting position, drawing herself in until she can wrap her arms around Shaw’s neck.

She’d done the simple maneuver before, but it never ceases to bring a robust grin to Root’s face. Being this close to Shaw; moreover, in this way. It all felt almost domestic compared to how things were before, but she still finds the fact that they are together its own form of wild. Every time she thought of that fact an excitement would flare up within her, awaken her butterflies and liven her eyes.  _This is real._  The words bring a warm feeling to her heart, and it only spreads through the rest of her when Shaw wraps an arm around her back.

Somehow, Shaw never made a show of anything. Whereas Root couldn’t conceal a single smile or hide a single, exhilarated shudder, Shaw had this way of always remaining calm and collected. Her movements always seemed so fluid and easy to Root, whereas every move Root makes feels electric and nerve wracking.

Even now, her heartbeat picks up in her chest, breath catching slightly as she tilts her forehead in to touch Shaw’s. Shaw, watching her face, can see the elation in her eyes, and a sliver of a smile surfaces on her lips.

“How come whenever I see you, you’re always so  _happy_?” Shaw asks her, voice low enough to only just make it to Root. Shaw’s eyes are narrowed in play, but the rest of her remains rather serious. She can see Root’s cheeks flush slightly as an answer comes to her head. Then, the blush trades out for a sly countenance, and she lets her eyes connect with Shaw’s.

“Because I’m happy whenever  _I_  see  _you_ ,” Root replies coolly, and Shaw’s hand halts its circling of Root’s knee. She raises her eyebrows as to say a sarcastic  _‘really?’_ , then rolls her eyes with a puff of laughter. Root’s heart flutters, and she slowly starts leaning in once more.

She comes nose to nose with Shaw, close enough to know Shaw’s stopped breathing. Closer still, letting her eyes close and her heart leap wildly. And just as she gets within a hair-width away…

There is a knock on the door.

Root has her mind set to ignoring it, but her eyes open as she feels Shaw pulling back. “Wait,” Root tells her, and Shaw tilts her head to the side, stopping her retreat.

“What?” Root flashes her eyes open a little wider in response, and a humored smirk comes to Shaw’s face as she stands.

“You’ll be here whether I pay you or not,” Shaw tells her, only half joking as she walks backwards towards the door. She swipes the money off the mantel before continuing. “But  _he_  won’t.” With that, Shaw spins around and heads to the door. From behind her, she can hear Root’s silent laughter, and fights the quirk of a smile off her own lips as she pulls open the door.

“Hello, Sameen.” Shaw’s face loses it’s easy going manner, falling neutral with shocked eyes. The man before her holds up a cardboard box that steams, the smell of hot dough and melted cheese wafting from it. “Pizza’s here,” he says to her, wide smile on his charming face. Shaw can barely suppress the smirk that comes to her own as she looks him over. At last, she presses her lips together, smile busting through.

“That’s not  _all_  that’s here,” she replies.

______\ If Your Number’s Up /______

Root can hear muffled chatter from the door, and stretches her neck over her tucked in knees, trying to get a glimpse of the conversation taking hold. However, after only seeing the apartment wall in her line of sight, she gives up, leaning back into the soft fabric of the couch. The front door closes, and- to Root’s surprise- the set of voices continue, growing louder with each passing second. Curious, she seats herself normally on the sofa, eyes directed at the doorway.

She sees Shaw walk in, head turned slightly back as she talks with the second figure. He comes through the doorframe next, and Root instantly feels cold needles pricking her skin. She knows the face, although she’d never came face to face with him before.

He doesn’t notice her at first, too absorbed in his conversation with Shaw to look away, and Root stands, eyes cold and calculating as she looks him over. Feeling a change in the room, he turns his gaze that way.

At first, he seems to have seen a phantom, for he blinks a few times. Then, realizing she isn’t just a figment of his imagination, he gives her a precarious look. Neither one of them smile, merely size the other up.

“Uh, Root,” Shaw says, not seeming to observe the tension building in the room. “This is-”

“I know who  _Tomas_  is,” Root interjects, gaze not leaving his; a smile on her face that doesn’t nearly reach her eyes. Stepping forward with her eyes slightly narrowed, she sticks out a hand. He shakes it, a haughtily humored smile on his own face as he looks at her.

“Is that  _so_?” He asks. “Because I feel like I’d remember meeting someone like yourself.”

Root cocks her head to the side, hair trailing across her back to follow, and shrugs her shoulders.  _I know more about you than_  you  _know about you_ , she wants to say to him. _So just tread carefully._

As she steps back from him, she makes sure to stand just a tad closer to Shaw. Shaw looks between the both of them and the box in her hands, and purses her lips, waiting for the go ahead. And finally, after a few more hostile seconds, Tomas’s cold front shatters into a large, pearly white smile.

“Well,” he says, clapping his hands together. “Any friend of Sameen’s is a friend of mine.” Root can’t help the astonished chuckle that leaves her.

“You mean-”

“You staying for pizza?” Shaw asks him, unintentionally cutting Root off. Looking to Shaw, a fond grin softens his features, and Root can feel her muscles beginning to tighten.

“I would like nothing more,” he replies, then walks Root’s way, eyes expectant. With a pang of distaste, she understands, and stiffly files down to the single seat at the other side of the couch, and Tomas follows to sit on the sofa. Right in between Shaw and Root. He looks over to her with an amiable smile, and Root returns it with one that may or may not have turned out as pleasant.

Shaw plops down at Tomas’s side, taking the paper plates loosely taped to the box’s top and tossing them to the coffee table.

“So, you’re a pizza boy now?” Shaw asks him jokingly, eyes on him fondly. “Seems like a step in the wrong direction from Barcelona.” The two share a look that makes Root’s blood begin to boil, and her fingers curl around the edge of the seat as she forces herself to take a deep breath.

“Well, actually,” he responds, “I ran into the pizza delivery man in the elevator. I told him I’d bring it the rest of the way up.” Shaw flashes him a dashing smile; Tomas returns it naturally.

“I do hope I’m not intruding,” he says aloud, although his words are only directed at Shaw as he reaches out for the box. Root opens her mouth to respond, but Shaw beats her to it.

“Not at all,” she tells him, with an odd tone in her voice Root hadn’t heard since the last time the two encountered one another, and it doesn’t settle with her well.

“So, Tomas,” Root says, inserting herself into the conversation. For a moment, it looks as if he didn’t hear her- just keeping his eyes on Shaw- but he finally turns to face her. “What brought you back to America?” She asks, unable to hide the snide undertones in her voice.  _And how much would it take to send you back out?_

“Yeah, I thought you  _retired_ ,” Shaw says smartly, and he laughs with the shake of his head.

“I thought so, too,” he chuckles out. “But I was offered a job I couldn’t refuse. Which,” he adds, sitting up a little straighter, “is why I’m here.”

“Oh?” Shaw asks, leaning forward with intrigue sparking in her eyes. Root’s own narrow, pupils searing holes into the side of Tomas’s head.

“Yes,” he tells her seriously with an excited spark in his eyes. “There’s quite the score at stake.”

“What kind of score are we talking about?” Shaw fires back with more dialogue than just her words portray. Root rolls her tongue across her teeth angrily, seeing that she is more than shut out of their-  _call it chummy_ \- conversation. Tomas leans his head in towards Shaw, eyes smoldering secretively.

“The  _best_  kind,” he tells her in a low voice before bringing his hand to the top part of her leg. Root can feel herself rising, ready to spit venom and fire bullets, but his hand quickly resurfaces, brandishing the money Shaw had set out for the pizza. Slipping it from her pocket, he holds it before their eyes as he continues. “The kind that will win you a lot of  _these_.” A devilish smirk appears on Shaw’s face, and her eyes flicker momentarily down to the money before finding his face again.

“When do we start?” She asks with an intense gaze.

He pulls away, letting his back rest against the couch as he brings his hands to rest back at his sides.

“Hey, hey,” Shaw says to him, face serious but tone playful. “You might be good, but you’re not  _that_  good,” she tells him, sticking out her hand. A lovestruck smile spreads across his face.

“ _Sameen_ ,” he says, pretending to be appalled. “Like I could  _ever_  steal from you. On the contrary, it’s the  _other_  way around.” He sits up to face her once more, holding the cash out.

“And what are you accusing me of stealing, exactly?” Shaw counters. From her seat, Root finds herself once more irritated at just how close their faces are. Again.

However, neither seem to notice Root, nor her radiation of jealous enragement. Tomas merely raises his eyebrows, speaking something to her without words. Shaw narrows her eyes, taking the money back, although there is an unmistakable warmth in her features. _Like she’s been caught on his hook, and more than glad to be reeled in._

Suddenly, Root can take it no more, and stands hotly. She can feel herself beginning to quiver in anger, and clamps her jaw tight. Between gritted teeth and behind a strained smile, she interrupts.

“I think I’m gonna get a drink.”

_____\ We’ll Find You /______

Root tears the refrigerator open, steam spewing from her ears and fire from her eyes. She could use a shot of bourbon, or- Hell- the whole bottle. She settles for a can of soda instead.

From the other room, Root can hear the two discussing the game plan, all the while Root seethes. She’s unsure how to get the feeling to subside. This burning jealousy. It wasn’t like the last time Tomas was in town, not really. Last time, whenever Root thought Shaw was getting carried off by his smooth voice or inviting eyes, she could just make some snarky comment over Shaw’s earwig, and she’d be zapped into normalcy. This isn’t anything like that. There is no way for Root to intervene; she just has to watch as Shaw sinks further and further in.

 _How does he do that_ , Root thinks to herself, taking a rough swig of the fizzy drink. She goes over how Shaw watched his movements, the way her eyes had a hot spark in them and her entire body language changed. How she played right into his remarks until the two were going off in a tongue tie of hypotheticals and metaphors. Root could bring every innuendo she had to the table, and all that she got out of it was Shaw’s flustered glare. Occasionally a defensive response. Even more rarely a swing back. But with Tomas, it all seemed to stem so naturally from her. Her own set of come ons and advances- it turns Root’s blood to ice.

She can’t help but wonder if Shaw likes Tomas more, if she has more of something for him than she’ll ever have for Root. Her mind slips back to that last time, when she thought for sure Shaw was long gone, but showed up just behind her. It brings a smile to her lips, but only briefly, as the dark storm clouds roll in.

 _What if she doesn’t say no this time? What if whatever was holding her here then isn’t here now?_ She tries to envision how it would be for Shaw to not come home; or to barge in, pack, and escape, but cannot bring her mind to it. Even grazing the subject brings a sharp pain to her chest harsher than any bullet or blade.

She could see Shaw on a beach somewhere, not needing to worry about a single thing- not gunmen nor ever being cold- just a permanent vacation.

Root notices a dull pain in her hand, and realizes she’s got a death grip on the can. Releasing it, her eyes trail across the half moon indents left by her nails and sighs. Tossing it in the trash, she begins a grudging trek back to the living room. It feels like there are prison chains on her ankles, slowing her down and down until she’s barely shuffling forward.

“… And maybe this time,” Tomas’s voice comes clearly to her again as she gets a clear view through the doorway. “I will be able to make you an offer you  _can’t_  refuse.”

Shaw chuckles at his side, and he pats her knee a few times before using it as a support to stand.

“Bathroom?” He asks, turning back to face her, and she rises after him.

“Down the hall, first door on the right.” Nodding, he walks for the doorway. Upon passing by Root, he gives her an oblivious grin, then continues down the hall. She follows him with her ears, waiting to hear the door’s latch click closed before animating.

Slipping away from the kitchen, Root walks back into the living room. At seeing Root, the lingering ghost of a smirk vanishes from Shaw’s face, but her eyes dial in more intently. Stepping around the table, she meets Root halfway to the hall and wraps her arms loosely around Root’s waist. Root feels a flutter in her heart as some of her jealously dissipates- but  _only_  some.

Root, placing her hands on either side of Shaw’s upper arms, leans in and kisses her quick. “I’ve been waiting a while to do that,” Root murmurs after she pulls away. The start of a smile comes to Shaw’s face that she misses, eyes still closed.

“Worth the wait?” Shaw asks with the traces of humor in her tone, and Root- bringing herself back enough to look at Shaw entirely- nods.

“So, uh, when is the heist?” Root asks, barely able to refrain from the frost in her words.

“Two hours,” Shaw replies simply. “I’m leaving with Tomas as soon as he’s out of the bathroom.” Root’s heart plummets involuntarily; however, she keeps her composure.

“Tomas…” Root starts off, trying to find suitable words. “He’s nice to see in person.”

“Yeah,” Shaw agrees, casting her eyes towards the hallway, “he is pretty good looking.” At hearing the words, Root gives Shaw a not-so-soft punch to the shoulder. An astonished laugh escapes Shaw at Root’s outburst, and she takes her hands from Root’s waist to hold them before her face in defense.

“I didn’t say you  _weren’t_ ,” Shaw says with traces of humor still radiant in her voice. “Just that he  _is_.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Root sighs out in exasperation. Root takes her gaze from Shaw to look at the pizza box on the table; all the while, Shaw studies her expression carefully.

“Does it upset you  _that_  much?” Shaw asks at last, and Root’s eyes harden in thought.

 _Yes,_  she wants to say.  _A million times, yes._  However, she thinks of how it would sound to say. To be pushed so far over such a small thing as another person.  _Not mentioning that person is not only charming, but also at least slightly infatuated with Shaw_ , Root adds. _But_ , she decides, still warring with herself,  _that would be like Shaw being upset at my closeness to Harold. Granted, he doesn’t put his hands in my pockets, and- granted- I don’t use doe eyes on him._

“Root?”

“No,” Root responds at last, shaking her head to free herself from thought. “It doesn’t.” Peering back at Shaw now, Root can see the corners of her lips turn up in the beginning of a smile.

“Yes, yes it does,” Shaw coos smugly, her eyes screaming that she’s got Root trapped.  _I know,_  they say.  _Don’t even try to lie because I know_. Then, there is an added match to Shaw’s flame. “Are you… jealous?” She scoffs, and- seeing as Root’s eyes give her away- she bites the inside of her lip to suppress a chuckle.

“How are you  _just_  noticing?” Root asks, hoping to place at least some of the heat back on Shaw. She only shrugs her shoulders.

“How could I have noticed sooner? You acted the same the last time he was around.” Root stands, expression not changing, watching Shaw as she waits for it to hit her.

“Oh,” Shaw says, at last getting it, and an almost awkward flush brings her half a tint paler. “Yeah. Right.”

The bathroom door opens, and Shaw side steps around Root to grab her jacket from the back of a nearby chair. “What do you want me to do?” Shaw asks. Root thinks for a moment, unsure if she should say it. Then, Tomas’s words ring back in her head.

 _‘And maybe this time I will be able to make you an offer you_ can’t  _refuse.’_

Balling up her courage, she allows herself to say it. “I don’t want you just flying off with him this time.” The words are a rush as they leave her mouth, and Shaw looks at her with a mild curiosity as she heads for the door.

“Okay…” She replies, passing by Root and slipping the black jacket on, wanting Root to elaborate. Root turns to watch her greet Tomas in the hall, only feet from vanishing out the door.

“What if you… left something important here?” Root offers. Shaw, glancing over her shoulder, looks Root up and down before a smirk Root can’t quite place comes to her face. Tomas opens the door, then beckons her through.

As Shaw steps out, she calls back, “I already am.”


End file.
